"Nene's Babysitter"
(A Bubblegum Crisis lime 'fic)
MSTed by: Scott "Zoogz" Jamison
CoMSTed by: DarkAlpha
Fido
Knight
Latin_D
Megane 6.7
Richard
Tyd
==
Mystery Science Theater 3000, characters and situations are
property of and (c) 2001 by Best Brains, Inc. Bubblegum
Crisis is the property of Toshimichi Suzuki and Kenichi
Sonoda, Artmic and Youmex and all the distributors of their
work.
"Nene's Babysitter" is the property of Incognito Himitsu and
used with his permission. This is intended as a parody,
hopefully not to be taken offensively. Hopefully, enough C&C
shall be gleaned from these riffs to actually make this a
worthwhile product.
All additional references/characters/lyrics copyright of
their respective owners and creators.
==
This fic has some slightly limeish subjects. If you are of
legal age, please continue reading!
==
The satellite was blissfully silent as Cambot whirred into
action. It seemed as if sometimes the denizens of the
satellite forgot when his timer activated. Cambot sighed,
scanning the satellite closely for any sign of movement.
It didn't start as movement, but Cambot could pick up a
whirring sound on his microphone. He tried to get a closeup
of the situation, but it seemed to be located behind the
bridge. The whirring became louder... then, a "clunk"
sounded. More whirring, "clunk". Whir, "clunk"...
Crow popped up on the left side of the SOL's bridge desk,
wearing a cheap sports-jacket, wearing a pair of reading
glasses, and holding paper. In his other hand, he carried a
microphone. The whirring and occasional "clunk" could still
be heard as Crow warmed the microphone up.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls... let me show you
the latest in 'bot technology! Come on up, Servo, and hit
the lights!" Crow announced.
A light flashed against the back wall and door of the
bridge at regular intervals, and the whirring and clunking
became louder. Crow looked at his copy, looked back at
Cambot, and then looked at the floor again. "Hey, Servo, get
your gears a grindin'! I don't know when Joel and Mike are
getting back!"
Tom started to reply, "Uggh... man, YOU try moving up this
desk with-"
"SHHH! You'll spoil the reveal!" Crow hissed.
"Yeah, yeah, just a second, this is tough!" Tom shot back.
"Okay, I'll delay them... Folks, how many times have YOU
thought to yourselves, 'Our robot just isn't mobile enough!
I want one that can go ANYWHERE'? Well, we here at SOL
Technologies, in association with Muppet Laboratories..."
Crow trailed off.
"Oh, fine! Meek meek meek," Tom growled, seemingly out of breath.
"...We show you now... the TomTrack Servo 3001!"
Tom finally reached the top of the desk at that point.
Instead of his usual hoverskirt, he sported two tank treads,
and his bubbledome sported a flasher inside. "The TomTrack
3001 can reach any tight corner you ask it to! It can go to
the top of Everest without breaking a sweat, it can go down
into deep wells and fish Timmys from them, clean swimming
pools, and that's not all..."
"IT CAN ENTER THEATERS BY ITSELF! Woo-hoo, yes! About
time!" Tom celebrated on top of the desk.
Crow continued, clearly reading from his papers. "German
engineering, American design... can't possibly match
something like *this*! Now folks, tell me... what would you
pay for something like this? One thousand dollars?" Crow
paused for effect. "Are you out of your frigging gourd,
that'll be shipping costs alone! Now we here at the SOL are
asking for $45,000 per unit plus the better part of any
western American state!" The TomTrack spun around the desk a
couple times, and stopped next to Crow.
"TomTrack Servo 3001. Is there anything it's good for?"
"Hey, Crow! That's not the slogan we need to ask!" Tom
protested. The red light began flashing near Crow. "Let
*me* get that, for once! Yay!" Tom exulted as he approached
the button...
"You dope, we didn't give you working arms yet," Crow
pointed out.
Tom sniffled a bit... "WAAAAHHHH! You give me cool treads
and you can't even let me move one of my bitty fingers?
WAAAHHH!!"
"Folks, calm down," Crow responded to Cambot, "the TomTrack
is not programmed to cry all the time." Crow gave a pointed
look to Tom. "At least, after he gets a reprogramming..."
Crow pecked the button with his beak as Mike and Joel
arrived. "Our operators are standing by, would you like to
place an order?"
--Deep Thirteen
"Sure, I'll take a tube steak..." Dr. F smiled.
A metal grill stood in the middle of Deep Thirteen, with
three dozen all-beef patties merrily sizzling on top. Frank
was behind the grill holding a spatula in his left hand, his
right hand bandaged. Dr. Forrester, in his usual green lab
coat, sat at a cafe-style table to his left. "As Oscar Meyer
here is cooking up some grub, why don't you show me your
invention for today?"
"Sure thing, sirs," Joel responded. "Today, for your
serving pleasure... the Servo-Enhanced Restaurant Vehicular
Expeditor!" Joel introduced. "Hit it, Mike."
Mike fiddled with a remote control, and suddenly a floating
tray appeared on the SOL's bridge, complete with two cheese
sandwiches and a bowl of RAM chips. The tray flew towards
the center of the bridge, and started descending onto the
desk. Three seconds later, the two humans grabbed their
cheese sandwiches. Crow reached for a RAM chip, but Joel
stopped him.
"Uhn-uh, not until you tell me what's wrong with Tommy
here."
"Not Tom, TomTrack Servo 3001!" Tom replied happily
"Sheesh," Joel imparted around a bite of Kraft Singles.
"Well, what do you think sirs?"
"I think that the restaurant experience should be MORE of
an exercise in pain than that, Niels Boring. Observe..."
The camera turned to Chef Frank, who was in the middle of
preparing another burger. Frank pressed down on one of the
patties when suddenly, the blade of his spatula broke off and
his hand hit the grill top. "OOOWWWWW!!" Frank yelled.
"Maybe I should grab another spatula..."
"What does that prove, Dr. F?"
Dr. Forrester smiled. "The persistance of idiots, at
least..." Frank returned with another spatula, and sure
enough the same result happened. "See, this is my breakaway
spatula. If no one will get up the guts to cook food, soon
enough the world will be mine for the taking due to extreme
hunger!" Dr. Forrester chuckled for a second and returned
his attention to the video pickup. "And as for YOU, I have a
post guaranteed to take YOUR appetites away. It's called
'Nene's Babysitter', and I hope you all don't mind a squeeze
of lime in the pit of your stomach! Flip that fic on up,
Frank, and make sure it's extra raw."
The lights on the Satellite flashed even brighter and
faster than Tom's flasher could've provided. Mike jumped a
bit and yelled, "It's FIC SIGN!!" In the resulting mayhem,
TomTrack fell off of the desk and crashed hard on the
floor...
(Door #7: the dog-bone raises and the doors separate)
(Door #6: a Dutch double-door. You open the top and fall
over the bottom)
Tom: Owwwch! Wait up, guys!
(Door #5: Just to spite you, it's a window.)
(Door #4: it's a garage door. You have to open it manually)
(Door #3: "The Complete Works of David Eddings"... flame
works well)
Crow: Slowpoke!
(Door #2: It's a wardrobe. You open the door... but no
Narnia)
(Door #1: a vault door; after it shuts again, it effectively
keeps you inside)
(Mike entered the theater and takes the third seat from the
right. Then Joel showed up, and took the second seat. Crow
appeared last, and sat in the far-right seat.)
Joel: Come on, TomTrack, you're missing the fic!
Tom: But I can move across the grate now! Naah-naah! No
more codependency for Tommy Servo!
Crow: The fic's starting, get in here!
>From: Incognito Himitsu <incognito_himitsu@my-deja.com>
>Subject: [BGC][FanFic][Lemon] Nene's Babysitter 1 of 2
Joel: Nene's Babysitter! Comes ready-to-assemble!
Mike: Gee, a lemon with a babysitter. Never seen THAT
before.
Crow: You mean we have to sit through this twice?!?
>This story contains adult situations and elements of
>infantalism. If either of these things offend you then you
>should not read this story.
Mike: Adult situations... and elements of infantilism. It's
the fic that never wanted to grow up!
Crow: Somewhere, a Toys R Us kid is crying....
Joel: Hurry up, TomTrack!
>Nene's Baby Sitter part 1
>A Bubble Gum Crisis Story
>by Incognito Himitsu
Crow: Hubba Bubba's gonna be in danger in this story?
Mike: Knight Sabers by night, cradle robbers by day!
Joel: Rock-a-bye BIG baby...
>Based on Characters and Situations owned by Artmic and used
>without permission.
Joel: [imitates a dial tone and seven beeps]
Mike: Hello, Artmic? You're gonna LOVE this...
(Finally, Tom appears on the right side of the theater and
moves toward his seat.)
Crow: About time, all-terrain molasses-mobile.
Tom: Hey, bite me!
> The evidence vaults in the ADP building were well
>secured, they had to be.
(Tom sits in the far-left seat and settles in)
Crow: They kept Ben Stein's money after all.
Tom <Leon>: Well, time to find the drugs in the evidence
locker again! A day without cocaine is like a day without
sunshine!
>Still, all the codes and locks, and systems were only so
>much protection against a smart, young woman who knew those
>systems very well.
Crow: Carmen Sandiego strikes again.
Mike: Might as well have a twist-tie on the door.
>The vault door rolled back quietly, the room's lights coming
>on. The room was some grim parody of a morgue, or a
>storeroom of a department store.
Tom: Yeah. And these mannequins bite. HARD.
Joel: These corpses were the ones the ADP used to prepare the
*really special* surprise birthday parties.
Crow: Guys, it could be a theater showing Battlefield
Earth...
> Several boomers were laid out on the slabs, or sat in
>corners, a few were simply stacked one on top of another.
Mike <Nene>: Come to Crazy Nene's Used Boomer Lot! I have
green boomers, I have red boomers... I have enough boomers
to choke a camel!
Tom: Stacked up like a cord 'o wood... not a good sign....
> The young woman who entered was red head, her hair worn
>down below her shoulders, curling at the ends. Her large,
>innocent eyes were a dark shade of green. She was very cute.
Mike: Oh great, red-headed Nene...
Tom: The one and only.
Joel: Oooh, what about her nostrils! Describe them to us,
will you?
> Nene Romanova looked around the room, pulling the door
>closed behind her. She shivered slightly in the unnaturally
>cool air.
Tom: Either that or it's a flash of clairvoyance for what the
author's planned...
Joel <Nene>: Next time, I got to remember to wear clothes.
Crow <Nene>: I bet the other officers love it when I don't...
>The bodies, lying around, made her shiver more. It was too
>much like being in a morgue. She crossed the room and knelt
>down beside one of the boomers.
Tom <Nene, singing>: I don't know how to love him...
Crow: What, is she performing last rites now?
Joel <boomer>: I come with instructions...see?
Mike: <Nene, reading>: Do not activate unit between 12 am and
12 pm...
>It was female in form, though it's skin was tinged blue and
>it's face not very expressive.
Joel <Nene>: The things I do to get a date...
Mike <director>: Angst! Show us angst! Okay, how about
sadness? Indigestion?
Crow <Nene>: Doesn't she look like herself?
>It was a mannequin type boomer, a simple domestic servant.
>The only thing remarkable about it was where it had been
>when it was damaged.
Crow: Right in the ol' dust pan.
Tom: Zing!
Mike <Nene>: They should've KNOWN this wasn't a sexaroid...
> The boomer had been present when an entire family had
>been killed, a family the Knight Sabers had been hired to
>protect.
Mike: Back in the Knight Sabers' mercenary days...
Crow: So much for professionalism.
Joel: But the Klumps proved to have too many ememies to
defend against....
Tom: Naw, George and Wheezy moved on up one too many times.
>It had been almost completely destroyed by the time they
>reached the apartment, but there had been some power left in
>it. Nene had hooked into it, downloading the boomers entire
>memory in the hope that it might be examined.
Crow <Nene>: Little pink pussycats? What the...
Tom <Nene>: Cool, this one had Cinemax!
Joel <Nene>: My mind... to your mind... my thoughts... to
your... oh, the hell with this, I'll just back it up on my
hard drive!
> That had been two days ago and Nene had not had any luck.
>The boomer's memory protocols were rather confusing and
>specially encrypted.
Joel <Nene>: Damn this Morse Code!
Tom <Nene>: I really hate Adult Check...
Mike <Nene>: Frigging Windows 98... more efficient my ass!
>It was all part of what Genom did to ensure that it
>maintained its choke hold on the boomer industry.
Crow: Beats having a choke hold on your chicken.
Joel: That and the free balloons for the kiddies!
Tom <Ref>: Come on, Genom, break it! One! Two! Three! Four!
> Then she had had a brainstorm. All she had to do was load
>the boomer's memories into another boomer. Simple, well,
>mostly simple.
Tom <Nene>: And while I'm at it, I think I'll stick this coin
into a handy light socket!
Mike <Nene>: Even better, I could download them into a
coffeepot! And get some caffeine in the process!
Yeah!
>Finding a boomer to work was not easy, but she had found one
>in the evidence room.
Joel <Nene>: Now if I was a confiscated boomer, where would I
be?
Mike: Piles and stacks of boomers, and finding one wasn't
easy? This girl needs her big green eyes CHECKED.
Tom: The boomers has been on strike for months now...
Crow, Tom <boomers>: WHAT DO WE WANT? MORE OIL! WHEN
DO WE
WANT IT? SOON!
> She got to her feet and walked over to a boomer laid out
>on a slab. It was an endoskeleton type boomer and looked
>completely human.
Joel: No, Nene! Don't activate that one! Sarah Conner's
been through enough!
Mike <Nene>: Letsee... model number C-3PO...
Tom <boomer>: Live with me if you want to come... er...
error... error...
Joel <Nene>: Say, wasn't that one of the models I saw in the
old Lost in Space episodes?
>It was stretched out, naked, the gash in its abdomen the
>most obvious damage. The TAC squad that had gone after that
>one had been lucky.
Crow, Mike <TAC Squad>: Send us out after more sexaroids!
They're a menace to Neo-Tokyo, and oh so... umm, dangerous!
Tom: They only suffered 100% casualties and didn't have to
appear in the rest of the fic!!
Joel: Yes, Tom, they were lucky.
Mike: I hear the TIC squad is even worse...
>They had shut it down, burning out its core memory
>completely, leaving it an empty shell.
Crow: Which melts in your mouth, not in your hand.
Joel: And yet the creamy filling was left intact.
> That it had no memory was in Nene's favour. It was the
>perfect vessel to work with.
Tom <Nene>: I'll sail this Boomer to Mexico!
Crow: So, no memory... how would one download something to a
'bot with NO MEMORY?
> She went to work, starting with hooking up a power source
>to the boomer, reaching into its abdomen to connect it. She
>grimaced as she did so, the feeling was so very gross.
Mike <Nene>: Squishy, just like Linna.
Joel: And this setup is so very dull. Come on, cut to the
meat and potatoes already!
>She had to though. The techs had pulled the boomers
>generator, just to make sure it stayed inactive.
Tom: So, let's get this straight. She's downloading
information into a memory that doesn't exist and now she's
trying to start a generator that isn't there?
Mike: That, and electricity costs so damn much in 2032
Crow: Well, it was sooo inconsiderate of the boomers to walk
out of the evidence room...
> Behind it's neck, covered by flaps of false flesh, were
a
>set of input jacks. She plugged her computer, which was
>holding the records from the domestic boomer, into the jacks
>and began downloading.
Mike: Into a memory that wasn't there.
Joel: Just another security-less night in the ol' ADP
headquarters...
Tom <Nene, singing>: 99 bottles of beer on the wall... 99
bottles of beer....
> It did not take long. After a minute the operation was
>complete. Nene unhooked her computer and moved around to
>face the boomer.
> "Status," she said.
Crow <boomer>: I have a huge hole in my gut, you've been
playing with my insides, and you're asking me about my
frigging STATUS?!
Joel <boomer>: Deposit 100 yen first, please.
Mike <boomer>: Status, status, status! It's all that matters
to you bourgeois elitists! Down with the system!
> It's eyes flickered open. "Unknown. Power insufficient for
>complete operation," the boomer said in a soft voice.
Tom <boomer>: Due to the fact that my generator is hooked up
to someone's coffee maker!
Joel <boomer>: Get a set of jumper cables, if you could...
> "Access memory for events of two days ago."
> "Internal timer down, insufficient data."
> "Access memory of events for May 14th, 2034," she
>ordered.
Mike <boomer>: Oh, access this!
Tom <boomer>: Internal timer DOWN, dammit! Do I need to draw
you an effing picture?
> "Checking. Memory indicates massive failure of systems
at
>that point. Memory corrupted. Time required to repair,
>unknown."
Joel <boomer>: Since my timer is down, which you don't seem
to realize.
Tom: When Boss Hogg gets into your boomer's memory, you can
pretty much kiss it goodbye...
Mike <Hogg>: 55C! Git them Duke boys!
> "Review events of last ten minutes before failure.
>Present in video and audio format, download to external
>source."
Tom: Suddenly, we're reading an advertisment for RealAudio.
Crow <Nene>: And make sure you're done in five minutes, I
need to pop some popcorn first!
Joel <Nene>: I didn't know boomers watched the Playboy
channel.
> "Please wait a moment."
> There was a noise outside the room, Nene could hear the
>muted beeps as someone began entering the unlocking codes.
> "Cancel," Nene ordered.
Joel <Nene>: Aww crap! ADP *does* have security! Sylia,
I'll get you for this!
Crow <Leon>: Now, where'd I leave that pound of coke?
>"Shut down." She reached around and pulled her computer
>free, then yanked the power feed from the boomer.
Tom <boomer>: Hey! I wasn't done yet!
Crow <boomer>: Don't expect a tip!
Mike: Uh oh, she's gonna have to run Scandisk on the boomer
when she powers it back up.
> She moved away from it, flipping her computer open. As
>she moved to the centre of the room she began to enter
>information into the computer.
Tom <Nene>: Ugh! I .. gotta ...get me.. a laptop
Mike <Nene>: Come on, ace... I need an ace here... Yes!
Blackjack!
> The vault door opened and a big and somewhat fat man
>entered the room. "Romanova? What are you doing in here."
Joel <Nene>: I know! I'll hide out in the open! After
all,
I'm dealing with the ADP!
Mike: Wow... once Leon got the munchies it was all over for
his figure.
Tom <Nene>: The Fatman?!? I thought you were on a stakeout
with Jake!
> "Just checking some things for our records upstairs
>Sergeant," she told him.
> He looked at her. "I see," he said.
Crow <Sergeant>: Then why does that portable computer play
the theme to Super Mario Land?
Tom <Nene>: D'oh!
> "Well, I'm done," she moved towards him. "I'm glad to
be
>out of here, this place is a little scary."
Joel <Nene>: Especially with you looking at me like that...
Crow <Fatman>: It's not so bad. Especially if you get a 69c
sexaroid.
> The sergeant laughed. "Don't worry," he said. "Nothing
to
>worry about here." His laughing at her fear made him forget
>what he had been about to ask, how she had gotten into the
>vault. "Let's go."
Crow: Well, that was quick and pointless.
Joel: Like this fic.
Mike: Only without the quick part.
Tom <Sergeant>: And what exactly were you doing with a half-
constructed boomer and who exactly were you talking to in
here anyway?
> Nene and the sergeant left the vault, sealing the door
>behind them. Nene wondered if she would get a chance to
>return to the vault and finish her work with the boomer.
>Well, if not she could go back to the slow way of doing it.
>It would not be a problem.
Mike: Nene likes a boomer with the slow hand.
Tom <Nene>: A pad of paper and a pen. Sometimes the slow
ways are the best ways.
Crow: Don't forget the abacus!
> Several minutes after the vault door had closed the
>boomer laying on the table moved ever so slightly, a tremor
>that ran through the entire body. Then it's eyes opened and
>it sat up.
Crow <boomer>: Gah, that girl didn't even wash her hands!
Joel <Hermie>: Max? Agent 99? Chief?
Mike: Damn that latent electricity! Always turning stuff on!
Tom: And that's how Jet Jaguar was born.
> The boomer had been designed as an assassin. A well
>trained, artificial operative, a killing machine. The TAC
>squad that had fought it was more lucky than they could ever
>know.
Tom: Especially since they didn't live long enough to see the
rest of the fic.
Mike: Did we mention this machine murders things? Just
wanted to clarify that.
> Only the burning out of its memory core, a freak
>accident, had saved them, and a number of people.
Mike: That number being... two.
Crow: Genom assumes no responsibility for your domestic
boomer going on a psychotic murder spree.
Joel <Mason as Urkel>: Did I do that?
> Now it was up and operating again, the new information
>that had been downloaded into it giving it a new core to
>work with.
Tom: An apple core!
Crow: Core of an Apple? Boomers running around on BASIC?
Yikes.
Joel: Beats boomers running on C++
> Reaching over it grabbed the power lead that Nene had
>plugged into it earlier and slid that back into her abdomen.
>Hooked up to a steady source of power it went to work.
Tom <boomer, singing>: Well, it's a five o'clock world and
the whistle blows!
Joel: I mean, I'm all for recycling but... gawd!
Crow: Umm... didn't she pull that power lead OUT of the
boomer?
>First it had to repair the damage that had been done to it,
>her. That was easy enough. She found her main power core
>close by and pushed it back inside of herself.
Tom: ...only to have it drop down into her asscan.
Mike: Then the boomer stapled it shut with an industrial
stapler. Self-surgery is fun!
Crow: Remember, kids, don't try this at home.
> Her self repair capabilities were not those of a combat
>boomer, but they were more than enough to reattach the core.
Mike: Which had been ruined by a lucky TAC squad.
Crow: <boomer>: Duh... plug go into socket... heh heh....
Joel: Too bad she hooked up the radio insted
Crow <boomer>: YES! OZZY!
>She pulled the power lead from her and then searched through
>the tools and instruments under the slab she had been laid
>on for what she needed.
Mike <boomer>: Leon's pipe! Finally!
Crow <boomer>: Now, where's the crack...
Tom: In the plot! Ha, I kill me!
Joel <boomer>: Screwdriver, screwdriver... Ah, there it is!
*glup glup glup*
> In short order the gash in her stomach, and a few other
>damaged areas of the skin, had been closed.
Joel: Through the magic of DUCT TAPE!
Crow <boomer>: Nobody's gonna notice this...
Tom: Liquid leather! Matches any color boomer with no mess,
no fuss, no problem!
>There was no way to replace the large patch of hair that had
>been torn out of the right side of her head so she simply
>shaved that side clean, repaired the skin, then used several
>pens to simulate a tattoo.
Crow: The boomer's going for the "Luna Vachon" look.
Tom: Amazing what you can do with spit and bailing wire ain't
it?
Mike <boomer>: Hmm... should I draw 'Hello Kitty' or 'Psycho
Bitch'?
>All of that took a little under ten minutes. She was now
>ready to go. Her mission had to be completed. Of course she
>was not sure what mission that might be.
Joel: Maybe she should just ask Peter Graves.
Crow <Peter Graves>: Your mission... watch Biography!
>Her fragmented memory core began to pull things together,
>what was left of her original programming and what Nene had
>loaded into her.
Tom <boomer>: Cool! SFA3!
Joel <boomer>: This can't be right! I've got to tag the
Knight Sabers with graffiti before time runs out? What
the?!?
>She had a target. There had to be a target. Who was that
>target? A face appeared came up, that of a young woman with
>red hair and green eyes.
Mike: Yes! Kathy Griffin's GOIN' DOWN!!
Crow <boomer>: No, wait! It was the Pigeon! I've got
to
STOP THAT PIGEON NOW!!!
>There was a name as well. Romanova. Target acquired.
Tom <boomer>: Be vewwy vewwy quiet... I'm hunting Russian
czars! Huh huh huh...
Mike: Now if I can find the shooting range I'm set!
>What was she supposed to do with the target? At first there
>was nothing, but then as more and more of her new
>programming began to be integrated into her being, she knew
>what she was to do.
Crow <boomer>: Take her out to dinner, invite her over to
your place for a nightcap, hope she falls for the old boomer
charm....
Joel <boomer>: You're a cop and a Knight Saber, I'm a killing
machine and your hated enemy. Let's get it on.
>With a mission, a mission that nothing short of complete
>destruction would stop, the boomer began to move.
Tom: It wasn't moving before?
Mike: First she boxed up her belongings, labeled them all
"fragile", and called Mayflower Trucking.
Joel <boomer>: Careful, I have friends in there.
Crow: Then she began to dance, soon others joined her and
before long, a mile long line of boomers were putting
Michael Flatley to shame....
>It did not take long for the highly trained operative to
>escape the vault, or to find clothing, or to locate a
>computer terminal to hide her tracks.
Tom: Naked boomers freqenting JCPenney's! Film at eleven!
Mike <Sylia>: Welcome to the Silky Dolls... oh, poopie...
>While changing the records so it appeared that her body had
>been moved out and destroyed, she also found out more about
>her target. Nene Romanova. After taking note of the target's
>address the boomer left the building without attracting any
>attention.
Crow <Daley>: Hey Leon, did you just notice the boomer with
no hair and a tattoo on her head walking out of here in the
Chief's clothes?
Mike <Leon>: Naw, did you?
Joel <boomer>: I am not dangerous. I am just a normal
boomer. Repeat. I am not dangerous. I am not
trying to
kill someone. I am a normal boomer. Repeat....
Tom: Must've been a big boomer fight last night... there
weren't any ADP left to notice!
>The apartment was not quite what the boomer had expected.
Crow: What does ADP stand for anyway?
Mike: Amazingly Dead Policemen?
Joel: Always Decreasing Promptly.
Mike: All-Decomposing Peons
Joel: Always Dying Painfully.
Mike: How's about Always Dying Plentifully?
Joel: Heh.
>She looked around, finding very little of what she expected.
>It would not do, not at all.
Crow <boomer>: The drapes just won't WORK! And the yellow
kitchen is just so 2031!
Tom <boomer>: Damn it, I wanted a room at the Sheraton!
>After looking through the entire place, going through
>closets, looking through drawers, it was ready to go to
>work.
Crow <boomer>: I just so love snooping in a stranger's
apartment...
Joel <boomer>: Hey, maw! Lookit me! I'm COMMUTIN'!
>She chose the second bedroom which was mostly empty except
>for a low table and some cushions. It moved the table and
>cushions out of the way, and measured out the room with her
>laser range finders.
Mike: And promptly burned through the walls and torched an
elderly couple across the hall.
Tom: She kills, she maims, she tortures, she even
redecorates!
Joel: But, can she make coffee?
Tom: No, but boy, can she can make the doughnuts.
Joel: That bastard!
>After that the boomer went to the computer in the other
>bedroom,
Mike <boomer>: Murray! Murray, what did they do to you?
You
used to be a proud janitor boomer, sweeping up everything...
and now you're a lowly Linux box! NO!!
>sat down, and began looking for the things she needed.
Tom <boomer>: Now, where is that Quake demo?
Crow <boomer>: Gifs... Jpegs... Pcx... come on, where's the
porn?!?
Mike <computer>: You have mail.
Joel <boomer>: AAAAHHH!! AOL! DIE DIE DIE!!
>She found what she needed fairly quickly, purchased it and
>arranged for it to be delivered in the hour. Money was no
>problem, the boomer had access to a number of accounts and
>paid for everything out of them.
Crow <boomer>: Handcuffs, PVC, Ronco Mr. Microphone, karaoke
set...
Joel <boomer>: Oh boy! My own pasta maker! Mr. Popeil
would
be proud!
Tom: Computer, $899. Table to set it upon, $45. Boomer
to
walk into your apartment and raid your account... priceless.
Mike: There are some things money can't buy. For everything
else, there's Genom.
Tom: There's just some things money can't buy... a story
this CONTRIVED!!
>When the purchases began to arrive she had the delivery
>people put everything where she wanted it.
Tom <boomer>: Put the glass table over there, next to the
window... what are you DOING, that gilded armoire does NOT
belong there, you brute!!
Joel <delivery guy>: Hey lady! Where should I put THIS?!
Tom <boomer>: Oh yes, stick that where the sun don't shine,
please.
Mike: So, a banged up boomer with a drawn tattoo on her head
orders, pays, receives, AND tells them where to put it and
NO ONE notices?
Tom: This is a Gosunkugi model.
Mike: Ahh
>Nene was more than a little tired. She had had a busy day at
>work, then she had a rather gruelling training session with
>the Knight Sabers.
Joel: This night, Priss played the boomer.
Crow <Priss>: Uncle, dammit! Quit shooting me with those
damn spikes, Nene!
Tom: C'mon guys, we need a break in the worst way.
Mike: Want to be carried, Tom?
Tom: Aw, heck, might as well... it makes me feel needed.